


Coping

by VeetVoojagig



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Catharsis, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 16:17:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20603693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeetVoojagig/pseuds/VeetVoojagig
Summary: Carver reflects on his birthday.





	Coping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liritar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liritar/gifts).

It wasn’t hard all the time. That was the worst thing about it, really. Some days were almost normal, and then something would happen to bring it all back, and then it hit harder than before. Keeping busy helped sometimes; he was used to being alone, off soldiering, so getting into a routine like that could make him forget that she wasn’t back home waiting for him, practicing her magic spells like always. 

And then he’d remember, and that was what broke him. 

He stood on the dock, letting the noise of workers wash over him as he stared into the harbour. He’d give anything to go back, do anything differently. He knew it wasn’t his fault, but deep down, somewhere, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d failed her, hadn’t protected her like he was supposed to. 

Today… today wasn’t right. It wasn’t _right_ that he was older than her, now. Something was fundamentally wrong with the world to let that happen. 

He snarled and threw a rock as hard as he could into the water. It was vaguely satisfying, but the feeling soon passed, leaving him numb again. He shouldn’t be here. Mother would need someone to lean on. But he wasn’t sure he was strong enough, and it killed him to admit it, even to himself. He couldn’t be anybody’s rock, not without her. 

Not when he was missing an important part of himself. 

He shook his head, ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t stand here all day, thinking of the past. A pair of dockworkers were muttering to each other, giving him dirty looks. He returned it with a scowl of his own and skulked away. 

Count your blessings, they always said. Ha. Well. She hadn’t had to live here, at least. Hadn’t had to work to get in, to meet their uncle. Hadn’t had to sneak around, hiding from the Templars. Andraste’s ass, they were vigilant in Kirkwall. It was better that Bethany wasn’t here.

Better. Right. 

Better.

He stopped and leaned against a filthy wall, closing his eyes. “I miss you, sister,” he said, a choked whisper. “Be well.” 

He could probably find a dark corner of the Hanged Man where nobody he knew would spot him and spend the rest of his birthday forgetting everything.

**Author's Note:**

> "My" birthday is really hard to deal with when it's been "our" birthday for so long.


End file.
